"You have five days to consider," Hua Bucheng left these words behind and turned to depart.
Only Mu Gesheng and Chai Shuxin remained in the grand hall. The sky had turned pitch black, and a biting chill seeped in with the wind, leaving the space hollow and desolate.
Chai Shuxin was trembling from head to toe. He lunged forward, grabbing Mu Gesheng’s hand. "What did he mean by that?"
"...You know exactly what he meant," Mu Gesheng replied softly. "Why bother asking me?"
The National Fortune—the grand momentum of the world, the cycle of unity and division, the alternation of Yin and Yang; such is the mandate of a nation’s life.
From Jiang Ziya’s *Song of Ten Thousand Years* to Zhuge Liang’s *Hundred-Year Divination*, Li Chunfeng’s *Pushing Back Chart*, and Liu Bowen’s *Pancake Song*... throughout the dynasties, those who sought to deduce the rise and fall of empires were many. To divide the national fortune through the *I Ching*, using the Way of Heaven to infer the Way of Man, is to predict the ebb and flow of existence itself.
But everything has a price.
As a member of the Seven Houses, Chai Shuxin knew all too well the consequences of calculating the National Fortune. It was the ultimate technique of the Tiansuan lineage, one of the greatest divinations the Shan-Gui Flower Coin could perform—and it was a forbidden art.
In a thousand years, the Seven Houses had witnessed many changes of dynasties, yet fewer than five people had ever dared to calculate the National Fortune.
Once the hexagram is cast, the diviner perishes.
It was a feat paid for with one's very life.
Mu Gesheng stood rooted to the spot for a long time before whispering, "I’m going to check on the others."
That night, in the pavilion where Chai Shuxin stayed as a guest, the lamps burned until dawn.
Chai Shuxin sat with his hair disheveled and robes loose. His desk was overturned, and silver needles lay scattered across the floor. He had exhausted every method he knew, but there was no other way forward except to beg Penglai for the medicine. Hua Bucheng had given a five-day limit; once those five days passed, it would be the day Mozi and Wuchangzi died.
The medical arts of the Lingshu lineage were peerless, yet he was utterly helpless. Chai Shuxin slammed his fist against the wall, blood trickling down his knuckles.
***
The rustling sound of strings faded within the teahouse. The storyteller struck his gavel, the crisp sound echoing through the room.
The tea had grown lukewarm. Zhu Yinxiao concluded his long narrative and set down his cup. "And so, the Tiansuanzi met his end at Penglai."
"This piece of history from a century ago is known as the 'Seven Houses Incident'."
An Ping could not snap out of it for a long time. "...Why are you telling me all this?"
Zhu Yinxiao replied, "The Shan-Gui Town is undergoing another transformation. The Seven Houses will surely be on high alert, and Fengdu has sent an envoy with a letter, inviting the heads of the houses to gather. This coming year is bound to be a lively one."
He turned his gaze toward An Ping. "Old Fourth trusts you, and you are no longer an outsider. When faced with a fog, it’s best to clear away what you can. It’s better that I tell you the truth of what happened than have you guessing based on rumors."
The sheer volume of information was overwhelming. An Ping stammered, "I... I need some time to process this."
"Of course. You retraced those memories through Old Fourth’s blood, and his memories are incomplete; it’s natural to have questions." Zhu Yinxiao smiled. "However, my brother retrieved the Shan-Gui Flower Coin from the Yin-Yang Ladder a few days ago. He should have remembered quite a bit as well."
He patted An Ping on the shoulder. "Do not ignore your dreams. They often contain truths that have weathered the years."
An Ping pondered for a moment. "There are a few things I don't understand."
"Ask away."
"According to your story, you were quite young during the Seven Houses Incident and didn't witness it personally." An Ping looked at Zhu Yinxiao. "How do you know all this in such detail?"
"Good question," Zhu Yinxiao said. "Do you remember 'Old Second'?"
"Mozi, Song Wentong?"
"Exactly." Zhu Yinxiao nodded. "He was heavily injured and unconscious back then. By the time he woke up in Penglai, Old Fourth had already passed away."
"Old Third woke up earlier than him. He witnessed everything and eventually told Old Second."
"As for what Old Second did in Penglai after learning the truth, I don't know. Later, he descended the mountain with his blade and traveled all the way to the Vermilion Bird’s hidden lands. He lived with my family for many years."
"He told me these things slowly, over the course of those years."
An Ping pressed further, "Is Mozi still alive?"
Zhu Yinxiao shook his head. "Of the people from the Ginkgo Library back then, aside from me, only Old Second passed away peacefully."
"When my cultivation had reached a certain level, he took me to travel the mortal world for a few years. He died of old age at eighty. His only legacy was the Red-Licking Blade, which he left to my brother."
"Only Mozi died of old age?" An Ping asked in disbelief. "What about Wuchangzi?"
"You mean the previous Wuchangzi? Wu Biyou’s father, Old Third—Wu Zixu." Zhu Yinxiao chuckled. "Do you know why Wu Biyou hates Old Fourth so much?"
An Ping remembered. "He seemed to imply... that the 'Half-Immortal' harmed his father."
Zhu Yinxiao shook his head with a bitter smile. "Old Fourth harming Old Third? You actually believe that?"
An Ping certainly didn't. If Zhu Yinxiao’s account was true, it was Mu Gesheng who had compromised himself during the Seven Houses Incident specifically to save Wu Zixu’s life. While the details needed verification, a significant portion of Zhu Yinxiao’s words had to be the truth.
Zhu Yinxiao refilled his tea and continued slowly. "When Old Third passed, he wasn't even a hundred years old."
An Ping was confused. If Song Wentong living to eighty was considered a natural death, why was Wu Zixu dying before a hundred considered a premature end?
"The bloodlines of the Mohists and the Yin-Yang Sect are different," Zhu Yinxiao explained, sensing An Ping’s confusion. "The Yin-Yang Sect possesses 'Semi-Nether' bodies; their lifespans are naturally different from ordinary people. He should have lived much longer."
"But the injuries from the Yin Soldiers were no small matter, and he had performed the General’s Nuo Dance, which invited a massive amount of baleful energy into his body. Although he eventually recovered in Penglai, his foundation was permanently damaged. He died before reaching a hundred."
An Ping still didn't see the connection. "What does that have to do with Mu Gesheng?"
"The people of the Yin-Yang Sect believe that Old Third was 'bewitched' by Old Fourth into interfering with the Yin Soldier riot, and that he only used the General’s Nuo Dance because of him, leading to his shortened lifespan." Zhu Yinxiao spread his hands. "In their logic, that’s basically Old Fourth killing Old Third."
An Ping: "..."
"Besides, you don't know the truth of Wu Biyou’s birth," Zhu Yinxiao added. "My nephew is a 'Ghost Fetus'."
A Ghost Fetus?
"You should know how the Wuchangzi succession works—each generation is chosen before birth. Because the ghost energy in the womb is too heavy, the mother is destined to die during childbirth, sometimes even having her soul consumed. Old Third loathed this; he didn't even want to leave an heir. But man proposes, and Heaven disposes—he still met the love of his life in the mortal world."
Zhu Yinxiao laughed. "It gave my brother and the others a massive headache. The Wu elders refused to let the direct bloodline end, but Old Third refused to let his wife have a child. Finally, they reached a compromise that wasn't really a solution: Old Third and his wife lived in the mortal world for decades without children, right up until she passed away."
An Ping was lost. "Then where did Wu Biyou come from?"
"Like I said, he’s a Ghost Fetus," Zhu Yinxiao explained. "After his wife died, because she was of the Yin-Yang Sect, she settled in Fengdu. It was only then that she conceived. By nurturing a ghost fetus within a ghost body, the baleful energy was neutralized. That’s why my nephew is so young; Old Third and his wife really waited until the last possible moment to have a child. The mortal world had already been practicing family planning for decades by then."
"I know what you’re going to ask." Zhu Yinxiao made a cutting gesture, preempting An Ping’s question. "The reason no one in the Yin-Yang Sect used this method before is that ghost fetuses are extremely unstable. The children are either too ghostly and inherently violent, or they are sickly and die young. No one wanted to take that risk."
"Old Third dared to do it because my brother is the Luochazi—a fate of supreme balefulness that can suppress any ghostly energy. The tiny bit of malice in a ghost fetus is nothing before him." He chuckled. "That’s also why my nephew is so terrified of him."
"Actually, at first, my nephew and Old Fourth got along great. They were closer than father and son; the kid wanted to be glued to his godfather every single day." Zhu Yinxiao’s expression turned nostalgic. "Old Fourth treated him much better than he ever treated me. At the very least, he didn't toss the kid into a vegetable patch to crawl around."
"Unfortunately, the good times didn't last. When my nephew was ten, Old Third passed away."
"Old Third is the only Wuchangzi in the history of the Seven Houses whose soul had a clear destination. After he died, his soul returned properly to Fengdu, which gave the Ten Yama Kings quite a shock. The Wu clan wanted to keep him, but he was tired. He and his wife entered the cycle of reincarnation together."
An Ping couldn't help but interrupt, "Isn't that a good thing?"
"Hold your horses, let me finish." Zhu Yinxiao waved him off. "After Old Third died, my nephew had no one to look after him. The Wu clan took him back to Fengdu to be raised and 'disciplined' by the elders."
"What about his godfather?"
"You know Old Fourth’s constitution. He died and came back; his body is like a 'crystal heart in a glass man'—fragile and temperamental. Around that time, he entered a dormant period and slept for several years. My brother was busy taking care of him and had no time for my nephew."
An Ping suddenly remembered something. "Didn't the Half-Immortal die during the Seven Houses Incident? Then the current him... and why did the Lingshuzi become the Luochazi?"
"That’s another story." Zhu Yinxiao smiled. "And that story isn't mine to tell."
An Ping’s mind was a whirlwind. "What about you? Couldn't you have looked after the young Wuchangzi?"
"I’m of the Zhu family; it wasn't appropriate for me to interfere directly in Yin-Yang Sect business." Zhu Yinxiao spread his hands. "Besides, by Vermilion Bird standards, I’d only just reached adulthood myself. Who would trust me to raise a child?"
He added, "Wu Biyou barely tolerates calling me 'Brother' now. If I made him call me 'Uncle,' he’d hit the roof."
The seniority among these people was a complete mess. An Ping still hadn't figured it all out. Looking at Zhu Yinxiao’s eye-catching female attire, he suggested, "You could try having him call you 'Auntie'."
"Tried it. Didn't work."
"...Forget I said anything."
"Because of the Yin Soldier incident, the Wu elders already had a grudge against Old Fourth. Once they got their hands on my nephew, they spared no effort in making trouble." Zhu Yinxiao sighed. "That’s how they brainwashed him. I don't know what kind of nonsense they fed him... but by the time 'father and daughter' met again, it was a case of enemies meeting on a narrow path."
After all that circling, An Ping finally untangled this web of love and hate. Compared to the soul-stirring tragedies of the past, this particular grudge felt almost absurd. "And the Half-Immortal didn't explain? He just let it be?"
"He said my nephew is at the age of 'eighth-grade syndrome'—some illnesses just have to run their course." Zhu Yinxiao shook his head. "But I can guess his real intention."
"Which is?"
"The Tiansuanzi’s position is awkward right now; many parties have ulterior motives. Being too close to him would only bring trouble. Maintaining this 'love-hate' dynamic is actually a form of protection for my nephew."
Zhu Yinxiao shrugged. "And it doesn't really matter. Everyone has their rebellious phase. Even if the 'father' lets him run wild, I’m still here to protect him."
An Ping looked at Zhu Yinxiao and began to understand where Mu Gesheng’s confidence came from. Even in his absence, the youth had powerful guardians by his side.
Zhu Yinxiao picked up the letter sent by Cui Ziyu. "If I don't accept this letter, the task of delivering it will eventually fall on my nephew. The Seven Houses have declined, and the Yin-Yang Sect is struggling in Fengdu. As an elder of sorts, I’ll help where I can."
An Ping was startled. "The Seven Houses have declined?"
"Haven't you noticed?" Zhu Yinxiao countered. "The Zhu family has been in seclusion for years, the Mohist lineage has vanished... this is simply the era we live in. During the decades the Tiansuanzi remained silent, the authority of Fate gradually dissipated. The Seven Houses are already a pile of loose sand."
He looked out the window. "Tonight, Fengdu is holding a Lantern Festival. Everyone is celebrating. But if you ask any of them, who still knows that deep in the night sky of Fengdu, there are ninety-three thousand and seventy-two Jinwu Lamps hanging?"
He turned to An Ping. "Do you know the difference between a festival lantern and a Jinwu Lamp?"
"...What is it?"
"Lighting a festival lantern requires an individual to pay money. Lighting a Jinwu Lamp requires the Vermilion Bird to pay the price."
"The Zhuque clan are descendants of gods, but in this era where deities have vanished, people have grown tired of making offerings." Zhu Yinxiao shook his head. "They would rather pay the price themselves, even if they don't understand the difference between the two, or whether they can actually afford what they are paying."
"The Zhu family has been hidden for years. I am the only Vermilion Bird still willing to appear in this world. All things must eventually fade; the dead end we’ve walked for a thousand years is something no one can avoid."
An Ping didn't know what to say. He struggled to find the right words. "Does it really have to be this way?"
He had seen the youth who drew his sword, whose fury could change the heavens and earth. A single divination to settle the world, a single blade to sunder Yin and Yang, a single dance to stabilize the mountains and rivers, and the Jinwu Lamps that turned night into day... those magnificent, grand, and heart-stopping tales of high spirits and blood-stained tears—they shouldn't just be a dream that eventually dissipates.
Zhu Yinxiao smiled. "The wind blows, the rain falls, and all glory is swept away."
"The seeds of the Seven Houses' ruin were sown a century ago, long before the last era of chaos began. It’s just that in times of peace, the cracks don't show. When the chaos arrived, the Master tried to turn the tide, but it was far beyond the power of one man."
"The tragedy Old Fourth and the others endured was merely the final snowflake that caused the avalanche."
An Ping only half-understood. He listened to Zhu Yinxiao’s quiet monologue: "Everything has its moment of extinction. Without destruction, there can be no creation. It is the cycle of the heavens, and perhaps it is for the best."
"What’s terrifying is the 'centipede that is dead but not stiff'—a rotting corpse spreading poison. That is truly loathsome."
As midnight approached, the book reading ended, and the teahouse became bustling and noisy once more.
Wu Biyou hurried into the private room, dressed as if he had just come back from a fan event, clutching banners and light sticks.
"Are you two done with your tea?" He kicked the door. "If you're done, let's go. The Lantern Festival is about to start."
"Is Gui Sanji’s concert over?" Zhu Yinxiao stood up. "How was the show?"
Wu Biyou rolled his eyes at him. "Duh. Obviously, it was amazing."
Outside the teahouse, the streets were packed with lantern vendors. Long bamboo racks were draped with lanterns. An Ping noticed that most of them were electric, designed to stay lit for a long time even in the gloom of Fengdu.
A massive dragon boat flew through the air, its architecture exquisite. A woman sat upon the dragon’s head, her voice melodious and enchanting.
"That’s Gui Sanji." Zhu Yinxiao nudged An Ping. "She has a bit of a connection with my nephew."
An Ping was surprised.
"She was Old Third’s wife’s disciple. My nephew calls her 'Senior Sister'," Zhu Yinxiao explained. "You probably never met my sister-in-law. Back in the day, she was a famous courtesan of the Guanshan Pavilion. She even performed *The Romance of the Western Chamber* with Old Fourth and the others."
"It was quite a coincidence. The first time she shared a stage with Old Third, they played the roles of Cui Yingying and Zhang Sheng." Zhu Yinxiao laughed. "A match made by fate."
An Ping vaguely recalled that scene from the past.
He suddenly realized why, during that New Year’s Eve dinner, Zhu Yinxiao hadn't sung the role of the lead lady, Yingying, but had chosen to sing the role of the matchmaker, Hongniang.
***
### Glossary Table
Chinese | English | Notes
:--- | :--- | :---
国运 | National Fortune | The collective destiny and lifespan of a nation; calculating it is a forbidden, lethal art.
七家事变 | The Seven Houses Incident | The historical tragedy involving the seven major sects a century ago.
舐红刀 | Red-Licking Blade | The signature weapon of Song Wentong (Mozi).
鬼胎 | Ghost Fetus | A child conceived or gestated by a ghost; often possesses unstable or malevolent energy.
金吾灯 | Jinwu Lamps | Protective ritual lamps in Fengdu, historically maintained by the Vermilion Bird clan.
鬼三姬 | Gui Sanji | A famous singer in Fengdu, disciple of the previous Wuchangzi's wife.
罗刹子 | Luochazi | "Rakshasa Child"; a fate of supreme balefulness and power over ghosts.
三九天 | Sanjiutian | "Third Nine Days of Winter"; a nickname for Chai Shuxin, referring to the coldest part of winter.
山鬼花钱 | Shan-Gui Flower Coin | Mountain Ghost Coin; the primary tool/talisman of the Tiansuan lineage.
莺莺 / 张生 / 红娘 | Yingying / Zhang Sheng / Hongniang | Lead characters from the classic play *The Romance of the Western Chamber*.
